


For One Night Only

by Mis_Shapes



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bickering, Don't Try This At Home, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Implied/Reference Past Abuse, Jealousy, Jon Snow Knows Something, Light Angst, M/M, Modern Westeros, Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 11:23:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17446013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mis_Shapes/pseuds/Mis_Shapes
Summary: “Is it going to be at all possible for you to get through this without killing each other?” Sansa asked him, clearly quite concerned at this point. “He has this insane notion that this might bring you together finally, like a bonding experience or something.”Jon snorted at the idea that there was even a slight chance Greyjoy might possibly be civil with him, but he knew that neither Sansa nor Robb should be told this. “Look, I’ve had plenty of years dealing with him, I’m sure we can organise one event. Then we can go back to ignoring each other as much as possible. And anyway, someone needs to rein him in."He couldn’t bear to think what that obnoxious twat had his sights set on. Robb had gotten engaged over a year ago now and he’d, very cautiously, asked both him and Theon to be joint best men. Jon was sincerely tempted to throw in the towel right then and there, but rather than dash Robb’s hopes they’d simply neglected to do anything about it. Until now. Perhaps that had been a bad move.





	For One Night Only

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theonsfavouritetoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonsfavouritetoy/gifts).



> Both for asoiaf rarepair prompt: Jon x Theon, "just kiss me already, you asshole", and theonsfavouritetoy/@owlsinathens who I keep meaning to try and create Greysnow content for and is excellent with her encouragement.
> 
> Big thanks again to Lydia_Martin_trash <3

**Jon**

 

“Is it going to be at all possible for you to get through this without killing each other?” Sansa asked him, clearly quite concerned at this point. “He has this insane notion that this might bring you together finally, like a bonding experience or something.”

Jon snorted at the idea that there was even a slight chance Greyjoy might possibly be civil with him, but he knew that neither Sansa nor Robb should be told this. “Look, I’ve had plenty of years dealing with him, I’m sure we can organise one event. Then we can go back to ignoring each other as much as possible. And anyway, someone needs to rein him in.”

He couldn’t bear to think what that obnoxious twat had his sights set on. Robb had gotten engaged over a year ago now and he’d, very cautiously, asked both him and Theon to be joint best men. Jon was sincerely tempted to throw in the towel right then and there, but rather than dash Robb’s hopes they’d simply neglected to do anything about it. Until now. Perhaps that had been a bad move.

A sigh came down the line, the chatter of a child on the other end. “Ok, well, just try to reach a happy compromise. If we need to perhaps Jeyne or I can help out.”

“Sansa, this is a stag do, you, and certainly not Jeyne, can get involved in this,” he grumbled, as he hovered outside the pub. Neutral ground. Apparently. He spies a familiar figure sprawled leisurely in chair, dark wavy hair loose and softening up the sharpness of his jaw, and sporting an oversized shirt. Unfortunately, he had to admit that, physically at least, Greyjoy was uncomfortably attractive. “I best go, he’s already here. That’s unlike him.” 

“He’s trying?” Sansa suggested hopefully, sounding a little fraught. “Good luck. I’ll see you soon.”

“Hmmmm. Bye.” He put the the phone done and took a deep breath before going inside, slipping it into his jeans pocket.

He’d thought he was done with having to tolerate Greyjoy’s presence. Or, he thought at least that he could be indifferent to it. Ignore him perhaps.

“So,” began Jon, a bottle of beer in hand and having neglected to take off his coat, stubbornly sweltering in the wool. He’d be damned if he was going to sit through an entire pint, “I was thinking camping. Robb-”

Greyjoy interrupted him, shaking his head, “no.”

“You haven’t even heard me out!” Jon spat, already frustrated, but his eyes being drawn to how wide his legs were spread, with an ankle on the opposite knee.

“There’s no way we’ll manage to get a stripper to come to a campsite and I’m sure as hell not sleeping in any tent.”

That’s how it was going to be then. The prick digging in his heels again until he got what he wanted, just like he had all those years, bending Robb’s arm every single fucking time. And Robb wasn’t even here.

Dragging his eyes back up to his face from his crotch, Jon sighed and took a swig, regretting his choice not to get something stronger. “Barge?”

Greyjoy made a sound imitating the buzzer when a contestant gets the answer wrong on a game show.

“Robb won’t even want a stripper!”

“Robb doesn’t know what he wants,” Theon rolled his eyes and took a sip of his rum and coke. Kraken black spiced. The look on his face when the barmaid had tried to give him the house white was a picture. “He’ll regret it if we don’t.”

“You mean you’ll regret it if you don’t convince me.”

Theon’s lips curled up into a smile as he fished the lime out of his drink to squeeze out the juice. Sucking his thumb and forefinger, he winked at a guy nearby. He was the very meaning of ‘fit, but he knows it’. And the thing was that others seemed to actually quite like this form of arrogance and vanity. Confidence was attractive, even he could accept that.

“Do you ever give it a rest?” Jon snapped. He was ready to admit defeat just to get out of there. To avoid fixating on his lips and watching as he flirted with every damn thing with a pulse.

Greyjoy tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, his lips pouting slightly, and turned back to him, nailing him with an inquisitive look. He arched a single brow. “Do you have a problem with it, Snow?”

“Yes- No,” he frowned, “can we just concentrate please.”

Taking a folded and tatty looking piece of paper from his leather jacket, Theon slid it across the table. Taking a deep breath, Jon opened it. Both room and flight bookings.

“No.” There was no way in hell they were going to Sunspear.

“Yes.”

“Not a fucking chance. No bloody way.”

“Do you not want Robb to have a good time?” Greyjoy asked, a smirk on his face, that one dimple appearing, knowing he’d won. Knowing he’d nicked his achilles heel, he pulled out a packet of rizlas.

Of course he still smoked. _Social smoker my arse._ He knew it was stupidity all those years ago.

Jon would’ve quite liked to have strangled him in that moment.

“You know him, he’s probably only going to do this once,” He downed the rest of the drink and almost slammed the glass back down onto the polished table.

Jon gritted his teeth and conceded defeat.

“Hey, do you have a pen on you?” He asked as he took out a paper.

Fishing around in his pocket, he pulled out a biro and chucked it onto the table, perhaps a little too viciously, and rolled his eyes as he watched him write his phone number. “Fuck you, Greyjoy. I’m off.”

Jon stood sharply and kicked his chair back under the table, then proceeded to stalk out of the place. Fuck the pen too.

 

 

**Theon**

 

This could not be happening.

The call button flashed overhead and the steward leant over him to turn off the light.

“Hi, how can I help?”

_Don’t suppose I can get a seat away from this self righteous moody fuck, love?_

“Two gin and tonics, please. Doubles.”

He could see Snow scowling in the corner of his eye. What on earth was his problem? Really, with his long face it was like he was just waiting for a ‘horse walks into a bar’ joke. To make matters worse he couldn’t get his mind off how fucking good the twat smelt. Coconut was it? Probably in that bloody hair of his. Theon didn’t expect he was the type to put in particular effort into what he smelt like, other than not bad, obviously, but he certainly did care about that hair. It was short on the sides now, not long enough for it to curl there, but with more length at the top. It suited him, he possibly looked slightly less surly for it. An image of his hands tangled in, pulling at, that hair came to mind, and he sat back in his seat, closing his eyes momentarily as he waited for her to be done.

“Thank you,” he smiled politely as she passed over the drinks and caught sight of her name badge pinned to her chest, “Sera.”

“Please, stop,” Jon growled, his voice gravelly.

Theon overdid the innocent voice purposefully, despite knowing what was coming next. “Stop what?”

“Coming on to people who are just trying to do their job.”

It wasn’t like he was trying to, even if he had been, but Snow would never believe that. So, instead, he pouted his lips and took the opportunity to taunt him, “Is someone jealous?”

“Fuck off!” Snow’s earphones were slapped back on and he went back to stubbornly concentrating on the inflight magazine.

“Touchy,” Theon laughed, pulling on the ear closest to him so Snow could hear him as he lowered his table and set one of the drinks onto it. Definitely the hair. “Here, get this down you and try to be less miserable.”

Jon looked thrown, torn between wanting to accept the drink on offer and outrage over being called miserable. Standard Snow. “Uh, thanks? I suppose?”

“You are most welcome,” he gave his sweetest smile and looked out of the small window and the clouds below. And at Snow’s reflection eyeing him. Was he…? Purposefully, he let his knee fall against his and watched as he stiffened, but then moved his own away to give Theon more space.

Then, in a great turn of events, Theon felt a firm warmth against his upper arm as Jon leant onto the arm between there seats and he shuffled and crossed his legs over (away from Thoen, but still) still idly flicking through the magazine.

“It’s good to know you aren’t always a self centered cunt,” he murmured.

Theon choked at the word coming out of Snow’s perfectly plump and sweet, polite presenting, but clearly quite obscene, mouth.

Snow’s lips twitched as he tried not to laugh in a way those who are generally reluctant to be quite so vulgar do when they feel like they’ve pulled it off and surprised everyone. And fuck, had he been surprised.

Sat beside him, an older woman glared at the pair of them.

“Tut tut, we’re going to have to wash that filthy mouth out.” He didn’t bother looking back from the window and took a sip of the drink, swirling it gently in his hand. What he didn’t expect was Snow’s breath against his ear.

“You have no fucking idea just how dirty it can get.”

Theon swallowed dryly, feeling a shiver down his spine and his dick twitch with interest. “Care to elaborate?”

Sitting back up right and burying his nose back into an article, Jon turned to the page. “Not really, egotistical knobheads aren’t really my type.”

“That’s fine by me, I’ve no interest in dour as shit pouty wankers either. I just thought you’d finally got some life in you.”

The smug git smirked, it was small in a Snow like way, but still, it was there.

“Eat shit, Snow. Some of us just like to have a laugh sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Jon asked pointedly.

“Oh, we’re going there are we? Is this what that’s about? Not gotten laid since that redhead - nice by the way, no issues showing there -” he spat spitefully, “fucked off, and now you’re taking it out on me? It’s not my fault you’ve got your knickers in a twist.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Greyjoy. I couldn’t give a shit about you and where you stick your cock… or whos you take.”

Theon snorted, but left it at that with one quick glance over that tight black jumper he was wearing, cuffs pulled up slightly, a leather watch against thick wrists, the metal face against the paler inside. Snow had found something that worked for him and run with it.

 

 

**Jon**

 

As tantalising as his hair was as it cascaded around him, caressed him, fuck, the sight of Greyjoy with it pulled back was something else. The elegant curve of his neck and the jump of his adam’s apple when he swallowed provoked lust driven images he was uncomfortable with. He’d have liked to sink his teeth into that pristine flesh. To paint it purple.

And this was without even considering how his cheeks hollowed out as he smoked, lips around the cigarette..

 Jon watched as Theon paced back and forwards outside the glass window while the rest of the group sat in the receptions seating area. Robb grinned as he talked with the others, with his forearms propped up on the sports bag in his lap and somewhat oblivious to the booking confusion.

Waiting for the receptionist to come back he tapped his fingers idly on the marble countertop. How it came to be that he had to deal with Greyjoy’s fuck up he didn’t know, but somehow he suspected the guilt troubled him too much. As terrible as he was he’d do pretty much anything for Robb.

“I’m sorry,” the receptionist said when she reappeared, already beginning to take out the room keys, and Jon couldn’t contain a groan, head falling in his hand, “we’re unable to do anything about it. We’re fully booked this weekend. It’s the season you know.” She inclined her head over to the party, looking a little exasperated. Jon felt for her - it couldn’t be fun.

“What’s the deal?” Greyjoy asked, coming up behind him and bringing with him a waft of smoke.

Jon coughed - a little overkill, granted - and Theon pulled a face back at him, sneering. Good to know he wasn’t going to start anything with him right here and now in front of everyone.

“No extra rooms… I don’t know what to suggest.” Jon rubbed his chin, hand grazing the light stubble, and looked away from him. Always a clear sign he was lying. He wasn’t good at this.

“Yes, you do, you just don’t want to.”

They couldn’t very well get anyone else to pay for his mistake.

Jon involuntarily made a little strangled noise of frustration.

“We could ask Robb…” He began.

“It’s his weekend,” Greyjoy told him, and he was right - they couldn’t get Robb to take the hit this time. “Can we at least get a twin?”

Jon looked back expectantly to the woman who had gone back to her computer, having left the key card envelopes out for them.

“Sorry,” she grimaced, “Mr Greyjoy insisted on doubles.”

 _Of course he had_. Greyjoy, ever the narcissist and taking pride in his foresight, grinned despite the position he’d put them in. Perhaps just imagining what he’d had planned for the weekend.

Admittedly, the room did turn out to be pretty damn nice for the price. Greyjoy’d done a good job on booking early. Not that he’d ever admit that. He dropped down onto the bed, into a plush white duvet and pillow, letting out an appreciative moan.

Greyjoy chuckled, “don’t get too comfortable, Snow. Big night ahead of us.”

Something hard fell against his stomach and he immediately flinched, muscles tensing as his legs and arms pulled in to protect himself from another attack.

“Chill out,” he told him and Jon could practically hear the roll of his eyes.

He picked up the cold can, a JD and coke, from beside him. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

An honest laugh. One of those was a rare extraction from Greyjoy. “Just enough for you to think sleeping on the floor was your idea.”

Pulling up to sit against the thick ‘rustic’ wooden headboard, Jon watched as he headed into the bathroom, pulling his t-shirt up over his head. His eyes ran across the marks scattered across his back, across the taut sinewy muscles, and fell to the dimples at the base of his spine. A thought - his thumbs on top of those nooks - unwittingly crossed his mind, and he turned his attention back to the can. _Shit_. This was akin to torture.

He thought he was over this. That teenage fantasies were just that, teenage, not still going on almost 15 years later. There was just something about the idea of fucking him and watching the cockiness drop from him even just for a moment as he unraveled. Something about the idea of something between them that didn’t revolve around Robb. Then again, it was all about Robb, it was just a way to evolve the competition between them. He wouldn’t give a shit about Greyjoy otherwise.

 

 

**Theon**

 

Theon peered at himself in the mirror, splashing freezing cold water onto his face. _Look lively. Get in the mood. Be the person everyone expects. Life of the party. Smile_. Now was not the time to crash. How could he be so fucking stupid enough to even consider it? As though shagging Snow was the ultimate validation. Confirmation that he could pull someone stone cold. That he still had it in him.

Peeking around the corner, he noted the guidebook in Jon’s hand and rolled his eyes.

“Snow,” he called in a warning tone while attempting to neaten up his hair, “what are you doing?”

“Just having a look in this book, might be something to do, I thought.”

“Put the book down. There’s not going to be time for any sight-seeing.”

“What’s the fucking point in coming here then?”

He quirked his brows at himself in the mirror in disbelief and then took another glance. Appreciating the view as Snow pulled the jumper up and over his head, revealing the wide shoulder and narrow hips in all their glory, he watched as he pulled on a white t-shirt and proceeded to check himself out in the room’s mirror, fluffing up his stupid bloody hair. And he called _him_ a narcissist. Fuckwit.

Sighing loudly, he moved into the doorway and leant casually against the frame, crossing his arms. “A t-shirt? Could you not make a little more effort?” He asked, forcibly ignoring how good he looked in it. “I suppose I should be grateful it doesn’t have some band name written across it.”

“What on earth is your problem?” Snow growled as he pulled on a pair of boots, sat on the bed. The muscles in his arms flexed as pulled at the laces. Theon noted the way he’d turned back the sleeves, highlighting his biceps really quite effectively. He wouldn’t mind those handling him. “You know what? Never mind. Fuck you. I’m done, I don’t need to be here anymore. I’m going to Robb’s.”

And just like that he grabbed his wallet and thrust it into the back pocket of his stupidly tight jeans and slung his pea coat over his shoulder and stalked out.

“I hope you aren’t planning to take that out with you!” Theon called after him as the door slammed shut, buttoning up his shirt.

  
  


He found Robb, Jon, and the others waiting for him in the lobby, the groom already looking a little dazed by it all.

Robb grinned at him in that goofy way he was prone to when drunk, a shot glass dangling around his neck. “Hey! Guess what, Smalljon has got everyone t-shirts printed.” He followed it up with a snort, knowing precisely how Theon would feel about this.

“He heard you wanted the the full works,” Snow shot at him. “Looks like we’re all wearing t-shirts now.”

The only positive from this Theon could possibly see was that Jon was likely as pissed off about it as him, though for different reasons. Jon for the tacky slogan and connotations, and Theon for the awful look of them. Loras, already in one of the red ‘lad’s on tour’ tops, looked absolutely mortified and was shooting a look at Renly as though conveying the sentiment that he was about ready to kill someone.

Theon took his, ‘Best Man’ plastered across it, but no ridiculous nickname, thank the drowned god, and shoved it part into his pocket as he told them, “I’ll change at the restaurant.”

“Oh come on!” Laughed Dacey. Theon was beginning to wish he hadn’t wavered on the guys only rule. “It’s part of the fun going out and about in them. You can’t hide it forever.”

Jon frowned, interrupting the argument, “if he says he’s going to change soon, just leave him to it.”

Meeting his eyes, Theon’s jaw dropped slightly, not quite knowing what to say, but eventually settled on softening his expression. Jon’s gaze fell, suddenly all bashful, cheeks a little pink. Theon fought to keep his lips from curling.

In the restaurant toilets, he swapped over his clothes.

Jon was stood trying to sort out what was going on with the staff when he left.

“Hey, thanks,” He felt his brows furrow from the confusion, “but… why?”

Snow chewed his lip and put a hand on Theon’s upper arm, using it to steer him out of earshot from the rest of the group. “You used to take any opportunity to put yourself on display. Don’t look at me like that, you know it’s true. I… Well, you changed earlier in the hotel room and -”

“You were watching,” Theon didn’t know whether to be frustrated with him or smug, “and what? It was too disgusting to put everyone else through? Or is it just pity?”

“Neither!” Jon said indignantly. “I put two and two together and when you didn’t want to change in front of everyone I tried to help.”

“You think I should be ashamed then?” Theon lifted his chin and looked down his nose, putting on a confident air. He wasn’t going to let Snow get to him, he’d tear him apart.

“No,” Jon looked downcast as he shook his head. “Gods, no.”

“Then what?” 

“Come on!” Renly yelled from the table. “Get sat down, we need to start ordering. Quit bickering for 5 minutes.”

Sat beside Robb, he pulled out the menu and began scouring the options when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. 

 **JS** : I didn’t mean to look  
**JS** : I mean… I did  
**JS** : But it was an involuntary reaction

Theon snorted and wet his lips, glancing across to where Snow was purposefully looking away and engaged in conversation with Dacey.

 **TG** : Yeah?  
**JS** : For what it’s worth

The dots kept appearing on the screen, keeping him hanging for what felt like an entirety. Jon kept looking down at the phone, sighing, deleting whatever he’d written, turning over the phone and then picking it back up as he chewed on his lip. 

 **JS** : I wouldn’t say no to another look.  
**TG** : You saucy little minx, Snow.  
**TG:**  Pure filth.

It was quite the picture to see Snow both flush and roll his eyes simultaneously as he reached to take the water jug from in front of him.

  

 

**Jon**

 

When the waitress came over, keying everything into an electronic device (surely it would be quicker and easier to simply write down the drinks at least), Theon ordered a ‘superfood salad’, whatever the fuck that was, and Jon saw his opportunity. Unable to resist the temptation to keep the communication going with him.

 **JS** : Get some actual food you twat

Greyjoy’s eyebrows rose and he blinked deliberately in faux shock. With a finger across his wide mouth, he tried to contain his amusement, looking just like he did when he was messaging some conquest. Jon was both appalled and delighted.

 **TG** : Mind your own fucking business  
**JS** : When you’re hammered and we have to share a room it’ll be my business.  
**TG** : fine  
**TG** : i’ll just find somewhere else to sleep then  
**JS** : so, what?  
**JS** : you’re going to drink on what is effectively an empty stomach and find some poor girl to fuck over?  
**TG** : what are you going to do about it, daddy?

Jon choked on a mouth of water and Smalljon patted him on the back, “you alright, mate?” 

No more. There would me no more. It wasn’t worth it.

 **TG** : I’m saving my appetite.  
**TG** : planning to sink my teeth into a tasty little something later  
**TG** : that lick the bowl kind of hunger 

He felt the colour drain from his face, his stomach sinking.

 **TG** : what’s the matter? You’ve gone as white as Snow.

_Hilarious._

Deciding on perhaps somewhat drastic action, he pressed down the button on his phone until the screen went dark, turning it off.

“Sorry, I’m fine,” he forced a smile as he turned to talk to his neighbour, “went down the wrong way is all.”  


 

A couple of hours later, he stood against a wall, arms crossed as he tried to chill out with it all, but with a mounting tension headache which suggested he’d been scowling for quite some time now. The music blared into his ears and the coloured lights whirled around Robb, who was visibly cringing as he was encouraged to take a shot they had mercifully contained in a shot glass balanced in the strippers navel. Loud cheers erupted as he finally went for it and she sat up to ruffle his hair endearingly.

Loras sidled up alongside him, clearly amused. “You’re being way too fucking obvious.”

“What are you on about?” Jon asked, keeping his voice stoney.

“Oh, is that how we’re playing it?” Loras clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Jon!” Someone cried out. “Over here! You’re up.”

He put on his best steely glare and shook his head, murmuring, only really audibly to Loras, “nope. I’m not in to objectifying women.”

A snicker came from beside him, and then a yell that made him want to retract everything, “Greyjoy, get onto the fucking table. It seems we have to make concessions for every Stark.”

“I’m not a Stark.”

Greyjoy barely hesitated as he got up, letting Ros (was it?) pull the t-shirt to just above the bottom of his rib cage, laughing along with her at him being ‘boring’ as he was telling her no doubt.

“Yeah, yeah, you act enough like one. Go on.”

He stumbled forwards when Loras pushed him and caught himself, watching Ros pour the tequila into Theon’s belly button without him flinching, as though he’d done this plenty. Wanting it over and done with, he leant over, avoiding any eye contact whatsoever and-

“Not so fast!” Loras nudged him out of the way, sprinkling salt across Theon with a cheeky look down at him, proud of himself. When Greyjoy opened his mouth to speak he was shushed and a wedge of lime encouraged between his lips. “He’s all yours now, Snow.”

Jon hesitated, looking down at him, watching as the salt trickled into the dips of his body, it was now a bigger task than he’d anticipated.

“You need me to hold your hand or something?”

“Fuck off.”

Robb chimed in, “there’s no way he’s going to do it.”

Running a hand to the hem of the t-shirt, largely a pretence of holding it out of the way, his thumb grazed Theon’s skin, appreciating how it felt to touch, and he licked the salt. Greyjoy shivered ever so slightly, Jon expected only he would have noticed, but it was enough for a trickle of the tequila to run find the light groove of his waist and run round his side.

Only to prove himself not at all boring, he crouched to start from the end of the run, tongue running as slowly as he could under the pressure of those watching, not wishing to be seen as enjoying it, just engaging. Performing. Of course. The sounds of the room became distant, his ears deaf to it all. He caught the rest as the press of his tongue created a dip in what little flesh Greyjoy had on his ridiculously flat stomach. It was like he’d had the foresight not to eat before because of it. Idiot. Wasting not a drop, Jon sucked, lapped at and circled the navel itself, revelling at the tensing of muscles. Finally, knowing it was hidden from view, he kissed lightly, and pulled the shirt back down. No one else was getting any.

His eyes nailed Greyjoy’s, a small smile at how his pupils dilated, and leant in to take the lime from him. It was good to have him in a position where he could neither give a running commentary or cutting remark, nor give one of those shit eating grins. No expression to mock him. 

Robb’s arm flung around his shoulder. He was laughing heartily at him. “Such a dark horse sometimes, Snow.”

Jon huffed out a little laugh as he took out the lime from his mouth and glanced back over Theon who seemed to have quickly moved on. Sat on the table top he smirked as he chatted with Ros, and dug into his pockets, searching for a cigarette and lighter it turned out.

 

 

**Theon**

 

He forced a large grin as he looked up at her as she chatted away about her literature degree, it had been enough just ask her if this was a full time thing. So fucking beautiful. Just the right amount of fire in her. Bubbly in a contagious way. Determined not to watch as Jon walked away, Theon left sights of her only momentarily as he lifted the roll up to lick the paper. 

Her hand fell against his wrist, “may I be cheeky?” Soft and ever so slightly plump feminine fingers stroked him expectantly.

He chuckled and held out the fag. “Sure.”

“We could always share.”

A lump caught in his throat. “Yeah, uh,” _I could always roll another one_. Not the point. A loud roar of laughter erupted from across the room and a wave of jealousy hit him. Jon had always won the favour of Robb’s friends easier than him. “Why not. Have to be quick though, got to move on soon. Perhaps we’ll bump into you later. Surely you have plans?”

She smiled and let herself be led out of the venue by a hand on her lower back, “perhaps”

“We’re going to the Old Palace, do you know it?”

“Oh yeah, I think I know it.” The lines around her eyes creased as she laughed, surprised by the idea she might not know it. “I’m not that new here you know.”

Outside the staff entrance at the back, she tugged the large coat around her tightly to keep warm, idly playing with the heels of her shiney stilettos against the paving, the pins in her hair glinting under the wall mounted light.

“I came here mostly because the weather is more forgiving,” she joked, taking a drag and passing it over to him as she turned her head to blow out the smoke. “Turns out it can get a little nippy even here as winter approaches if you wear very little.”

“You could get a new job,” Theon pointed out.

Ros snorted dismissively, “please, I’m going to come out of this with no loans, no debts.” Her lips pursued slightly and then suddenly he was getting one of those compassionate looks and his heart sank. Smoothing hair back slowly over his shoulder and biting at her lower lip, she smirked mischievously. “Is that friend of yours getting to you?”

“Hmmm?” He hummed, feigning ignorance.

“You know.” The tip of her shoe tapped him on the calf, encouraging him. 

“Oh please,” he scoffed, flicking ash onto the floor. “I’m not friends with anyone that dull.”

Amused, she grinned, honeyed words rolling right off her tongue, “of course not.”

Unable to discern if she was the type to use teasing as flirtation or if she really did mean what she was insinuating, Theon bit the bullet and reached to catch her, a hand cupping at the side of her face and thumb briefly dragging across her bright red lips. He went in for the kiss, chucking the butt onto the floor and stubbing it out, crushing it, underfoot. Other hand now free, it pulled her close by the waist, beneath the coat, against warm soft flesh.

“Mmmmm,” came an appreciative murmur, encouraging him on as he became bolder and his hand and eyes admired her breasts, curves enhanced by shimmer. Her lips kissed his neck, drifting to his jaw line. His mouth collided back against hers, invading it softly, and her fingers threaded through his hair. Then the lips cruelly retreated just enough for her to speak, “he’s a lucky boy.”

Feeling scolded, Theon pulled away.

“Sorry,” she said weakly as they began to hear shouts for him.

With a look back at her, her hand held up in parting, he sighed and shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to clear it, and headed back inside.

“Sorry, just went out for a smoke!” He called out, hands holding the memory of her shape under them.

At the club’s bar, Snow ended up beside him, clearly doing his best to ignore him. His elbows propped up on the bar, tacky from spilt drinks, he ran his hand through his hair and shook it, freeing the curls back up.

“Hey,” he started, a hand sitting against his back in the way a friend might do in these places, loosened by the alcohol and in close proximity. The idea that he was getting his attention an excuse they were both aware of. “What you getting? I’m buying.”

Jon hesitated and scanned the shelf. “Two rum and cokes.”

Theon laughed approvingly, “kraken?”

“What else?”

He let his hand slip a little lower and felt Jon move back against it. _Fuck, that perfect arse._ What it did to him. Theon almost wished the bartender would take his sweet time about it as they simply stood side by side, an occasional person knocking them in to one another. Eventually he decided he’d best remove the hand right as the glasses were passed over.

Looking up to him, grey eyes obscured slightly with beautifully thick dark lashes, Jon smiled, his voice turning sultry as he came in, “thanks.” It took his breath away momentarily.

Theon reached out to run a finger against Jon’s hand where it held the glass and carressed it affectionately, “so… That was quite a performance you gave back there, Snow.”

Jon’s finger moved back against his. “Pity it wasn’t quite good enough.” During Theon’s confusion, he came in closer, hovering over his neck and following up to his ear. The mere suggestion of Jon’s mouth against him again as breath tickled his ear was enough to send his blood rushing south. “Greyjoy?”

“Yeah?” He heard his voice turn husky, clearly aroused.

“You’re covered in her lipstick.”

His heart stopped.

Snow pulled back, his smirk, if you could call it that, cutting. His eyes narrowed. “Thanks for the drinks.”

“Snow, wait!” Theon clutched desperately at his wrist as he walked away, weaving through the crowd, and was thrown off with a harsh jerk.

“Fuck you!” Jon snarled at him.

“Oh ho, you just got played,” some obnoxious twat beside him taunted, but he didn’t have time for that now.

“Snow,” he called. “Snow, please. Just hear me out.”

The proximity to the group put him off from continuing, and so instead he forced a broad smile and energetically rejoined.

“Hey, are alright?” Robb asked, slurring slightly, but still managing to be concerned about him.

“Yeah, course,” laughed Theon, hollow, but good enough for drunk Robb’s ears. His arm wound round him, pulling him close as he went to kiss him on top of his head. Curls just like Snows. “I’m so happy for you.” A pain sparked through him, a pang of jealousy, another stab of the knife that put him even lower on Robb’s list of priorities. “She’s a lovely girl.” And that she was. It quite possibly made it all the much worse. Perhaps he could see the eventual failed marriage if she wasn’t. That was a terrible thing to think though really, and he was happy for him as he’d said.

“I know.” A bright cheesy grin filled Robb’s face. The lovesick fool.

Holding him in close still, the guilt of having not being incredibly attentive rushed in. “Are you having a good time?”

“Never better,” Robb informed him and Theon breathed a sigh of relief. “But, you don’t happen to know where Jon is do you? He’s been a bit quiet.”

Theon forced another laugh. “Snow? Quiet? Whatever next?”

Robb shook his head, closing his eyes, “come on, you know what I mean,” he shouted over the music. “You both need to get over yourselves.”

“What?” Theon yelled back, assuming he must have misheard.

“It’s been ten years!” Robb pulled him back in, “it doesn’t have to be how it was. You’ve both grown… somewhat.” Suddenly he pulled his phone out and began to squint at the screen, poking at it and occasionally holding it out in front, trying to focus his eyes. With it finally calling Snow, he lifted it up to his ear. “Jon? Jon, its Robb. Where are you?... Huh? Where?... Jon are you there?”

Theon took the phone from Robb. “Snow?”

“Oh, fuck off, not you.” The line on his side was surprisingly quiet.

“Where are you?”

Jon scoffed, “like I’d tell you.”

“Snow-”

The phone went silent as Snow hung up.

Fuck it. The lack of music meant one of two things. Toilets or outside, and finding Snow leant over the railings of the smoking area outside, breathing in a lung of smoke, was all too easy. Fucking hypocrit. He watched from the door and rubbed his temples, enjoying the view of him somewhat at ease, not being antagonised, the movement of back and broad shoulders as he shifted weight to his opposite foot.

Theon hesitated as he approached from behind, tempted to lay hands on him, to take him by the waist, get their bodies flush against each other, or even just a graze to warn him of his arrival. Neither seemed like a good idea, so instead he cleared his throat.

Snow did not turn to look. “What do you want, Greyjoy.”

“Robb’s worried about you, I offered to find you.”

“How kind,” Snow drawled.

“You know I want him happy… even if it is an excellent excuse to come after you.”

Finally, Jon looked sneakily over his shoulder for a split second.

“Say what you want to say and leave me alone, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Jon…” Theon was rendered speechless. What was it that he wanted to say? “Nothing happened.”

“I don’t give a shit about what you did or didn’t do. Fuck whoever you want. But I’m not willing to always play second best.”

“Second best?”

“To you, to her.”

 _To Robb_ , Theon could almost hear in his voice.

His patience wore thin and he pushed Snow through gap between the metal barriers, relieved he met no resistance from him, and didn’t stop until they stumbled into a closed doorway around the side, away from view.

Snow peered at him expectantly, back up against the wall, but for touch? For words? His hair caught in the rough surface of the bricks.

Neither of them spoke, eyeing each other carefully. He didn’t think he’d ever got such a close look. Eyes searched every inch of his face, darkened eyes torn between anger and pleading, flushed cheeks with the tiniest hint of freckles, straight Stark nose, lips ever so slightly parted, breath shaky from nerves.

“You aren’t,” he heard himself speak. “I promise you aren’t.” With Snow still silent he leant in, lips ghosting against his, waiting for him to make the first move. “You weren’t.”

Snow looked down to his lips and flicked back up to look him in the eyes, until eventually he frowned and pulled Theon into him by the t-shirt for the kiss. And fuck was the wait worth it. Not the hours, the days, but the years.

“Shit, Snow,” he groaned as they came up for breath, Jon biting at his bottom lip, “That’s quite some mouth you’ve got on you.”

The kisses alternated blissfully between harsh assault and a tenderness that surprised him. That was alien to him. Fingers hooked into his belt loops and pulled him in, legs shifted to knock his knees apart, to nestle between one another.

“Gods, it was fucking painful to have you walk away.”

He felt Jon begin to rock against him, using his thigh for its friction against his crotch, and, making a pained noise at the sweet look on his face, joined him in the pursuit.

“I’d have loved to have taken a shot… perhaps not in the company of others.”

“Later,” Snow breathed out.

“We should- we should go back inside.”

 

 

**Jon**

 

“Oh get out the way!”

Nudging Greyjoy out of the way, he fumbled with the key card in the door. Both wrecked with the anticipation as much as the drink, it was no easy task. He received a quirked eyebrow at his small outburst.

“Goodnight lads!” Smalljon called down the hallway.

Theon grinned and held up a hand. “Night!”

Jon shushed at him with a quick glare. It wasn’t just them staying here.

Leaning in just enough for him to hear, Greyjoy whispered. “I want you to think about this moment when you’re calling out my name.”

Jon’s breath caught and he failed to remain straight faced as he responded, not needing to keep his voice lowered with the present company, “fuck you.”

“Play nice you two!” Dacey told them as she walked past, taking a moment to ruffle up Jon’s hair.

“I’m going to play very nicely with you,” whispered Theon.

Jon groaned, not giving him the satisfaction of seeming to like it, and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, you will roll your eyes, and you wouldn’t be able to stop it if you tried.”

“You talk the talk, Greyjoy, but can you walk the walk? Is it all just peacocking?”

His hand caught the door handle and he was pushed inside by a firm pressure at the base of his spine from Greyjoy’s hand. Before he had the chance to turn, he’d slammed the door shut with his foot and pulled them both backwards against the door. A hand invaded his jeans and boxers both.

“You play coy for someone who’s as hard as rock, Snow. Is this what does it for you?”

A hand clutched his hair, pulling his head, baring his neck to Theon’s mouth. He felt bruises blossom below. It softened up it’s grip as Greyjoy hesitated.

“Snow?”

Jon swallowed against the lump in his throat, forcing himself to speak against the internal suppression of what he wanted, “yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Just… be you.”

“Me?”

“Bossy, demanding, self-serving?”

The palming of his cock stilled and Jon gulped. He regretted his choice of words.

“That’s not what I mean. Just… I’m me, you’re you… don’t turn this into something it’s not.”

“The great Jon Snow, for one night only? Our little secret?”

“Our little secret,” Jon confirmed, nodding, and moaned as he felt the movement resume.

It dawned on him that this was one relationship he didn’t need to be cautious with, that if it went wrong, it didn’t work, there was no harm in it. He didn’t need to be concerned about any future or destroying any past. All the memories where his body screamed for more, for harder, rougher, but his mouth stayed silent washed over him. All the times he couldn’t get out of his head, wanted to explain the biggest pleasure was in the sense of gratifying another.

“Don’t hold back,” was all he managed.

“On the bed, now,” Greyjoy insisted, adding a slap on his backside for good measure.

Jon prickled, between instinctively resisting the command, telling Greyjoy to go fuck himself, and doing what he knew he wanted and getting over the stubborn reflex.

“Make me.”

Theon laughed and turned him round to back him up and throw onto the bed, immediately flinging off Jon’s shoes, unbuckling his belt, and taking advantage of how he’d raised his hips to aid the taking down of his trousers.

“Now, get the rest off. You owe me from earlier remember? Gods, that tongue, Snow. Were you trying to make me hard?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“If I was successful or not.”

He was flipped over onto his front and without him having any time to process the sound of his belt being dragged through the loops, the leather fell sharply against the thin cotton of his underwear sending a shockwave of pleasure through him.

He hurried out of the rest of his clothes while waiting for Greyjoy to come back from the minibar, a bottle of champagne in hand. Jon frowned at him as he popped the cork.

“You best be paying,” he muttered, being pushed to lie back against the bed. The drink spilled across him, fizzing at his skin as Theon drank it from his body, holding it in his mouth as he teased his nipples. His kisses filled him with the taste. It was a total waste really to be opening such a bottle.

“Touch yourself while I undress, I’ll be watching.”

Theon’s wide eyes when he first looked back over suggested he had not expected to find him tearing a sachet of lube.

“Snow?”

He dropped to his knees on the bed beside him, hand carefully stroking Jon’s thighs as he watched his coated fingers run down between his arse cheeks.

Groaning at the sensations, at Theon’s interest, Jon pressed his eyes closed and allowed his mouth to become agape. While controlling his breathing, he felt Theon’s weight shift and him reach out towards his face, finger’s tracing over his lips, down his neck, and then went to join Jon’s hand between his legs, feeling him fucking himself with his own fingers.

“I assumed…”

“You were my first?” Jon asked, feeling a little sheepish.

“Well… yeah.”

He allowed a small smirk. “Ygritte.”

“Seven hells, Snow. What are you trying to do to me?”

His mouth was caught in a frenzied kiss, no hesitations any more. Taking hold of Greyjoy with a harsh grip of his thighs and dragging him up to straddle his chest, he teased his cock with his lips, licking at the slit, and reached for a condom. His hands were clumsy and unpractice on someone other than himself. And besides that, it had been a while since Ygritte, with whom he’d ditched them for a long time before their break up. It was the wrong time to be thinking about that.

“Fuck, I need you inside me,” he said, mostly to get things moving again, needing not to dwell on any thoughts.

“Now who’s bossy?” Greyjoy laughed and trailed kisses down him as he descended.  “I thought you wanted leading?”

“I just thought you should know.”

“I could have guessed.”

“Fuck off,” he told him, trying not to seem too amused.

“So rude, so self righteous,” Theon teased jovially, “arrogant tosser.”

“Fuck me.” It came out more desperate than he’d intended it to sound.

“So whiney, so needy. Is this what you want?” Greyjoy asked, pressing his cock against his entrance, and looking positively gleeful. This was not what Jon had planned for. Theon looking down at him smugly was not he’d envisaged.

“I’m not going to beg you if that’s what you’re after.”

“Then we have reached an impasse,” he laughed.

Jon knelt up, took his face into his hands and threaded fingers through the dark hair, and pulled him into a wet and needy kiss, feeling skin against skin as he moved against him.

“Shit,” Theon murmured, quickly won, and easily, without any resistance, turned him round onto hands and knees.

Feeling Greyjoy push into him inch by inch, Jon felt overcome, groaning as the sensation caused him to scoot slightly up the bed. He pulled himself up to and gripped onto the headboard, his knuckles turning white.

“Who said this was allowed, Snow?” Theon asked, stilling for now, taking a fist full of curls from the top of his head and kissing at his shoulders.

“Sorry,” Jon rasped, his voice haggard. “Would you like me to stop?” He asked as he used to bed as leverage to push himself back.

“Fuck… Jon,” Greyjoy moaned, gripping his hips harshly, “you’re so fucking tight I can barely contain myself.”

“Don’t…” Jon shook his head. _Let loose_ , “say it again.”

Biting his lip, Theon thrust into him with all his strength, pounding his prostate over and over in waves, and called his name. “Gods, Jon.”

“Theon,” Jon chanted back to him finally, matching the rhythm, “you feel so good. I’m not going to last long.”

Theon’s hands left his arse alone and wrapped around his waist as he whispered into his ear, “me neither. You’re everything I imagined.”

“You thought of me?” Jon asked hopefully, whining at Theon sucking against his neck.

“Jon, you have no idea… no idea how many times I’ve moaned that name to an empty room.”

Jon shivered at the admission, the notion as pleasurable as anything else. “Me too.”

“You get yourself off while calling out your own name?” Greyjoy teased him, there he was. There was Theon, he was beginning to wonder where he’d gone.

Unwilling to dignify it with an answer under the current circumstances, Jon shook his head in disbelief.

Theon began to stroke his cock and Jon felt himself start to lose it, head falling onto the top of the headboard in rapture.

“How long have you wanted this, Snow?” Theon asked him, the breath tickling and the heavy nature of it coupled with the groans spiking his arousal. Why were both names in Theon’s dulcet tones such a turn on? Both with such different connotations, both made the other more poignant.

“Too long.”

“How long, Jon?

“Since the very beginning,” he admitted, letting the waves of pleasure wash over him as he leant his head back against Theon’s shoulder.

Greyjoy’s movements became erratic, alternating between fast and slow, strong and weak, until finally he shuddered and fell into him. The laugh that came from him was strangely nervous, embarrassed even, and he kissed the nape of his neck softly before he pulled out. No gloating. Only a tender run of his hand down his back and cheeky grope of his arse, but the moment was cut short when Theon left for the bathroom, leaving him with a heaving chest and shaky breath as he came down.

 

 

**Theon**

 

Theon panicked, throwing the condom into the bin and splashed his face with cold water, willing himself to calm down. It all became too much as he sobered up, fully acknowledging what had happened, how things had felt with Snow. Too real. It wasn’t supposed to feel like that. Even despite Jon’s moments were his need to project some authority came out of him, he’d still become so raw and open with him. And now he was going to have to sleep beside him. 

When he finally brought it upon himself to leave the bathroom he found Jon sat on the edge of the bed with the dated hotel phone from the bedside table in hand.

“Yeah… the mezze plate please… with the pitta… and fries… yeah… oh,” he turned with a questioning look, mouthing to him ‘ _anything else_?’ and when Theon shook his head he added on, “two hot chocolates, please… Thanks a lot.”

Theon scowled, pretending to be interested in the notepad on the table as he waited for him to hang up the phone, and asked, despite knowing where this was going, “hungry?”

“You barely ate anything earlier and if you don’t eat you’re going to be hungover and even more of a pain in my neck than usual tomorrow… I didn’t think a burger or toasted sandwich like normal people would eat in this state would go down well.” 

He hesitated, clear that there was a kindness there he was attempting to mask with antagonism. Crawling across the bed towards him when Jon had sat back properly in the bed, he crept up and climbed into his lap, placing a knee either side.

“You do my head in, Snow.”

Jon laughed lightly, with a gentle caress of his thighs, and let himself be kissed.

“You need to get off me, or it’s going to be very difficult to answer the door.”

“It’s all part of the fun. We’ll just have to be quick. We don’t even have to fuck.”

Grey eyes pierced through him, as stern as Jon could ever be, steely and unmovable. Deadly serious. “That’s not what I had in mind.”

Something ran through him causing his chest to tighten. Wary, he searched Jon’s face carefully, getting a rush from his expression. His voice came out surprisingly quiet, “ok.”

Holding his hair back, he leant down to him a chaste kiss that seemed far more intimate than all those that came before, and got off to sit beside him and propped himself up with pillows, settling in for the fight for the remote that was about to begin.  
 

 

Full and with a warm belly, Theon stretched out on the bed, unable to remember the last time he felt so relaxed. Jon climbed back under the covers from having removed the plates and immediately shuffled up against him. His fingers gently pushed back the dark hair at his forehead and traced a finger along a brow. Theon shuddered to the touch.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

 _I’m not_ , screamed the voice in his head. “You’re just trying to sweet talk me, Snow.”

“No, I’m not… I’m despairing really.”

Theon cracked open an eye to look up at him. “What are you on about?”

“We can’t tell anyone… and how am I supposed to be around you now?”

Snorting softly, Theon smiled, and patted his cheek, “you’re drunk still.”

Jon pulled back the covers to expose him to the waist, ignoring the protesting ‘oi!’ that came from the chill of the air. “I need to render all of this to memory,” he joked.

“Soft git,” Theon told him, suddenly noticing how Jon’s eyes moved over him and spotted how the scars came up around him side. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“You’re pitying me!”

“I’m not, I just don’t understand why you’re so concerned.”

“No, because you can’t.”

Theon sat up sharply and ooched over the bed to take his clothes from the floor.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“This is all I am to people, it’s all I have,” he frowned, pulling the stupid t-shirt back over him as he realised when else was about to tumble out, “it’s all I had. It’s not like that for you.”

“Theon, look at me,” Jon insisted, sharply, “look at me. None of that is true, has never been true, or ever will be.

“I’m sorry, why are you here again?” Theon asked vehemently, refusing to look at him.

“Is that all you think of me? Shallow?”

“In this case, yes. Why else? You’ve always hated me,” he hissed, searching for his boxers. Why did they always go missing at times like that.

“ _I’ve_ always hated _you_? Did you hear anything I said to you before?”

“Fine, you wanted to get one over on me too, I concede.”

“Don’t be so fucking ridiculous… I don’t hate you, I never have, not really. Even then… You were gorgeous and you’d have never even noticed me unless I provoked you.”

“Hmph, like I say, it’s all based on wanting to fuck me.”

“Ok,” Jon pulled Theon’s face to look at him with a hand on his cheek and took hold of his chin to force him to look, “think rationally about this. Robb. He adores you. And Sansa. I know for a fact that she both likes you and wouldn’t dream of sleeping with you.”

“Alright, you don’t have to be-”

“And, yes, I do, but, firstly, no scar would ever change that, and I swear to you that your phenomenally good looks are not all you have,” Jon smiled in response to Theon’s own and tugged him to lie back next to him. “For one thing you are never short of witty comebacks, you’re clearly quicker than you give yourself credit for, I remember how infuriating trying to win an argument with you was… you can be caring when you want to be, as long as no one notices, your smile, all 101 of them,” he carried on through Theon’s protests, “some might even call you funny-”

Theon smothered his mouth with his hands. “Oh shut up and kiss me already, you arsehole,” he insisted and released Jon. Lying back, he surrendered himself to Jon and his perfect lips.  


 

He woke to light streaming in through the window. Curled up in on himself with the duvet pulled to his chest, he stretched out, enjoying the sun’s warmth against his feet and calves. He hadn’t felt so well rested in a long time, it was particularly miraculous seen as he expected to be dreadfully hungover. 

The food. Jon had gotten him something to eat he suddenly recalled. Jon. Fuck, Jon. When did he start thinking of him as Jon? Probably sometime around that earth shattering orgasm. That’ll do it. Oh, gods, he remembered, hand exploring himself and realising he was dressed to some extent, they’d fallen asleep. They hadn’t even managed that second time. Shit. Since when did this involve… feelings.

Theon groaned and rubbed his face, willing his eyes to open and see the Jon peaceful and sleeping, that daft hair of his all skew whiff, but when he did he found an empty bed beside him and his heart ached at the sight. Had he left already?

“Snow?” He called out and heard an indistinguishable cry back, muffled by both the bathroom door and the sounds of running water.

Half out of the bed, his feet the wooden floor as an internal debate raged over what to do next. Whether it was his heart or dick that won he wasn’t sure, it was certainly not his head, but he was not going to pass up the possibility of seeing what laid beyond the door.

The picture did not disappoint. The water cascaded down Jon’s body, finding its way into every crevice, across his shoulders and back, highlighting every muscle. Theon wasn’t convinced he’d heard him come in until he looked back over his shoulder and smiled as he turned to face him.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“But you left the door conveniently unlocked.”

“That I did.”

Theon licked his lips and pulled them up into a grin.

“Are you getting in?”

Not needing to be asked again, or even needing to respond, he stripped off and left the clothes right there on the tiled floor, and climbed into the tub. His hands trailed across Jon and gripped him at the hips.

“Can we extend one time only to one weekend only?”

“I think it's going to be necessary,” Jon confirmed. His lips came to kiss, suck and bite at his collar bone, then as Theon watched in awe, continued down his body.

With Jon know knelt at his feet, Theon quirked a brow. “Snow? Do you know what you’re doing?” He asked knowing full well what he intended.

Jon’s voice matched his highest levels of arrogance, hand taking hold of his cock, “how hard can it be?”

“That doesn’t sound very convinc-” he stopped, feeling Jon’s tongue against him, teasing him licking, swirling, “drowned god, and you’re telling me you’ve never? How-?”

Snow pulled back and looked up to him, a little coy, a little tint of pink in his cheeks, “you know… research.”

“Research?”

“Videos… articles… besides, I have personal experience.”

“You mean you studied how to give blow jobs? You’re such a- shit,” he braced himself against the wall, watching the water run over Jon’s face, over concave cheeks, “geek.” His head whirled and heart ran faster.

Jon’s hand slid firmly around his leg and gripped onto his lower calf, lifting it as Theon fell back into the wall, to stand his foot on the baths rim. Exposed, he closed his eyes, feeling the warm water fall over him, soothing him. Beside him he felt Jon researching for something in the corner. The hotel toiletries? Too overwhelmed and trapped by how good it felt, he did nothing to find out. And then he felt it, deft finger run up the cleft of his arse, slick from moisturiser and seeking his hole. He bit his lips with anticipation, forcing himself to relax, and threaded the fingers of his free hand through Jon’s hair, as he felt himself be breached.

“Seven hells, Jon,” he laughed nervously, his head tilting back and away from the water, top resting against tiles, and looking up to the ceiling.

It couldn’t be comfortable down there on the slippy plastic, but Jon looked as wrapped up it all as he felt, and when he experimentally thrust his hips forwards Jon moaned against him as though he’d been waiting for him to all along. The more he pushed, writhed, and groaned at the pleasure being exuded from him by Jon’s mouth and the diligent work his fingers the more positively wrecked Snow looked himself. 

A crescendo of moans echoed around the bathroom and in the light of day, along with no longer being under the influence of alcohol, his mind wandered briefly to who the neighbours on that side, but the addition of another finger changed his focus rapidly.

Theons hands grasped for something better to hold on to and steady himself. They settled on the showers piping. He just hoped they were sturdy enough to withhold the amount of pressure they were receiving as his head feel against his arm.

“Jon, come away now or-”

The strength and enthusiasm only increased until he cried out Jon’s name and his hand in his hair became lax and stroked absentmindedly as he came down. He required a few moments before he was able to acknowledge Jon’s kisses of his inner thighs and how his legs shook at them on account of how worked up his body had become and how oversensitive he had been left.

“A moment, I just need to catch my breath.”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” said Jon meekly with affection, the water trickling down over his nose and onto his lips.

“You’re-... but-” Theon’s eyes searched his face, unconvinced until he noticed the flush in Jon’s cheeks. “Untouched?”

Jon murmured, bashful, “I.. like to please?”

Theon’s eyebrows rose and his hand encouraged Jon to get him up from the floor, standing up properly himself to kiss him.

“There’s no need for that look, that’s something else. Well, I suppose you’re welcome.”

He yelped as Jon pinched his side and that was when the knocking started at the door making them both jump and shocked them out of their own little world.

“RISE AND SHINE!!” Definitely Smalljon by the sheer volume.

Jon had one last grope of him.

“You stay in, I’ll go.”

Looking after him wistfully, he watched Jon stumble around somewhat dazed and chuckled at how his legs failed him, a combination of having been knelt for too long and the orgasm presumably. Eventually he managed to pull out a towel and wrapped it around his waist, a standard hotel towel with not enough to it.

Another round of knocks as Jon peered at himself in the mirror, noticing how he looked. Swollen lips, pink cheeks, eyes just a little glazed.

“I’m coming!”

Theon heard the room door open and a number of whistles from outside it, and he couldn’t really blame them.

“Oh, phew,” came Robb’s faint voice from the next room, “you haven’t killed each other.”

“I got him in the bathtub,” Jon joked dryly, raising his voice to make it easier for him to hear, “less mess.”

 

 

**Jon**

 

For the next few months Jon attempted to put the whole affair out of his head. The whole weekend was something of a blur, from the flight out there to the one on the return trip ignoring the frantic knocks on the door to the tiny toilet while they eked out the very last of the weekend that had been full of sly glances and touches. That had been the most risk filled, with Theon insisting the flight was too short for anyone to bother going to the loo. He was right in some respects, the only issue was the flight attendants determination to get them out before they started descending. ‘ _Sorry miss, he was being sick, and he’s fussy about his hair you see-_ ’ She had not bought it.

Unfortunately, being as Theon was involved in this wedding as much as Jon was it was hard to completely avoid him. Every mention of his name made his stomach flip. On the occasion of them being fitted for their suits he felt his heart racing while he was kept on tenterhooks waiting from Theon to appear. He turned up late eventually and looked him up and down in the grey three piece and smirked.

“Hey, you don’t look half bad when you aren’t dressed like a miserable bastard,” he’d laughed and gave a wink when he thought no one was looking.

“Afraid of a little competition, Greyjoy?” Smalljon had asked, grinning.

“Never.”

“Tenner says the maid of honour picks him over you.”

“No,” Robb plead. “Please don’t encourage the pair of them, and please don’t do anything to annoy Jeyne’s friends.”

But the challenge had already been set.

 

Fucking shitbag. Jon hadn’t even bothered.

Let Greyjoy win. He didn’t even give a shit anymore. 

Except that he did. Every time he touched her he wanted to scream at him across the table. Not that he ever would, especially not here, and now while the father of the bride was making his big speech. Not so much because he was jealous, of course, but because he didn’t want Theon being sleazy to ruin the day.

Who was he kidding though, of course he was jealous, how could he not be watching Greyjoy run a fingertip around the rim of wine glass and biting his lip as she chattered away to him. His other hand, the one closest to her, was out of view and Jon didn’t want to know where it was, but knowing him it wouldn’t be good. 

He seethed his way through the speech, just waiting for Theon to even look at him. When the food came out he felt so sick to his stomach that he could barely eat it. And that was when he felt the message come in.

 **TG** : eat some food you twat ;)

This time when Jon looked up Theon winked at him. Shocked, Jon elbowed the table, causing the cutlery and plates to clatter and some of the red wine in the glass he was holding to spill out, staining the white tablecloth.

Sansa looked over at him with a questioning look and held out her hand, insisting he hand her the phone. Keeping it locked, having embarrassingly not yet deleted any previous messages from Theon, for reasons, he showed her the screen with the notification. He shouldn’t have expected anything less than her immediately guessing the truth of the matter despite it being one of the least incriminating texts.

“I knew it!” She exclaimed, full of excitement. Since being married she’d been even more invested in the romantic lives of others.

Jon sighed, mumbling to her with chin in his hand. “Keep it quiet would you?” He asked., Thankfully that the rest of the wedding party had gone back to their meals.

“Reply,” Sansa insisted.

He shook his head and put the phone away, getting up to go to the toilets, and make a stop by the bar on his way past to get something a bit stronger. When there he couldn’t resist not having a small dig back.

 **JS** : mind your own fucking business.

He echoed Theon back, and then, with a small scowl and heart sinking -

 **JS** : no need for you to stick your nose in  
**JS** : we aren’t sharing a room this time.

Stood at the bar and stirring the gin and tonic with a small straw idly, he watched the ice swirl, oblivious to what was going on around him.

A familiar weight fell against the small of his back.

“I was hoping I might be able to get you to change your mind,” a husky voice whispered in his ear.

“I’m not interested,” Jon growled, eyes flickering over to look at him, unable to resist.

“Oh, come on, Snow, we’ll have some fun.”

“I said no.”

Greyjoy actually looked hurt. His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed, searching for the right words.

“I can’t,” Jon told him, feeling himself breakdown, “I can’t do this. It’s killing me. You’ve been all over her all fucking day. What am I supposed to make of that?”

“I… I didn’t think you’d care.”

“Why would you think I wouldn’t care?”

“You didn’t try to stop me or anything!”

“What are you doing then? Testing me? Because it backfired, Theon.”

“Jon… I thought you weren’t interested. You didn’t want anyone to know… I was just being myself.”

“You’re the one who instigated the rule.”

Theon looked thrown, as though he hadn’t even considered that. “We can extend the coverage of the rules,” he said, hopefully.

Turning away again and peering into his glass, Jon shook his head, “no, I don’t agree to those terms. I’d need new conditions of a completely different nature.” He waited for Greyjoy to give up and walk away, feeling embarrassed and praying to the gods that he understood. “They would include you having to refrain from your usual games.”

“Ok,” Theon said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and soft, nervous even.

Jon whipped round to face him head on, trying to contain the hope welling up,“are you being serious? You had better not be messing with me because-”

“Snow,” Theon interrupted him, taking Jon by the waist, moving under the jacket. “Would you just shut up and kiss me?”

“Here?” Jon asked, unable to believe it. Theon Greyjoy wanting a kiss from him in public.

He was met met with an eye roll.

“Here. Where do think I mean you dork?”

Jon grinned and cupped the back of his head, momentarily forgetting he’d been intent on not creating any drama today, and crashed their mouths together, having been starved of Theon’s kisses for months. Moaning against him and welcoming his tongue, Jon went beyond the level of PDA he would find acceptable under any other circumstances.

Microphone feedback on the speakers pulled them apart.

“A big round of applause for the best men, please,” came Robb’s voice. He paused for confused claps from the majority of the room and the cheers from both the attendees of the stag do and Stark family.  “Now, who had 8.45?”

 


End file.
